Monster

Leyla tossed and turned in the bed, frustration creeping up her spine. Sleep refused to come, her mind restless with the events of the past few hours.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, deciding to force herself to relax. But just as she closed her eyes, a sharp sound pierced through the silence.

A muffled scream.

Her eyes snapped open.

She sat up instantly, her heart pounding. The sound came again—low, agonized, and filled with pain.

Frowning, Leyla swung her legs over the bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor. She moved cautiously, following the eerie echoes of the voice.

The deeper she walked into the mansion, the colder the air felt. The halls were dimly lit, silent, except for the occasional groan of a man in pain.

Her pulse quickened.

The sound led her downstairs.

She hesitated at the door leading to the basement. It was slightly ajar, and through the gap, she could see shadows shifting under the dim, flickering light.

Slowly, carefully, she pushed the door open just enough to peek inside.

Her breath hitched.

Ozan stood in the middle of the room, sleeves rolled up, hands stained with blood. His expression was void of emotion—cold, merciless.

A man was tied to a chair in front of him, ropes digging into his arms, his face swollen and bruised beyond recognition.

Ozan's men stood around, watching silently. They didn't interfere. They didn't need to.

Because Ozan was handling it himself.

Leyla watched in horror as he grabbed the man by the hair, forcing his head up.

"Who sent you?" Ozan's voice was calm. Too calm.

The man coughed, spitting blood onto the floor.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about—"

CRACK!

Leyla flinched as Ozan's fist connected with the man's jaw, snapping his head to the side.

The man groaned, his breathing ragged, but Ozan wasn't done.

He grabbed a knife from the nearby table, running the blade slowly along the man's cheek.

"Lies bore me." Ozan's voice was almost a whisper. "And I don't have patience tonight."

Leyla's fingers dug into the wooden door. She should leave. She should turn back, pretend she didn't see any of this.

But she couldn't move.

She was frozen.

Because this Ozan…

Wasn't the Ozan she had been arguing with in the kitchen.

The air in the basement was thick with blood and tension, but Leyla didn't hesitate.

With steady steps, she pushed the door open fully and walked in.

"Ozan!" Her voice rang through the room, sharp and commanding.

The men around the room stiffened, exchanging uneasy glances. No one interrupted Ozan when he was like this. No one.

Ozan, who had just lifted the knife again, froze mid-motion. His jaw clenched as he turned his head toward her, his icy eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was low, dangerous.

Leyla's glare was just as sharp. She pointed at the barely-conscious man tied to the chair.

"What the hell are you doing? He's already half-dead! You'll kill him!"

Ozan scoffed, wiping the blood off his knuckles with a cloth. "And what if I do?" He stepped closer, tilting his head. "Would that bother you, Ateş?"

Leyla didn't back down. "Yes, it does. Because I don't know what kind of monster you think you are, but killing a defenseless man isn't strength—it's cowardice."

Ozan let out a dark chuckle. "Cowardice?" He took another step toward her, towering over her, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You don't understand this world, Leyla. You think kindness keeps you alive? Mercy?" He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear. "It gets you killed."

Leyla clenched her fists. "And what does this make you? A murderer? A man so empty inside that he only feels powerful when he's spilling blood?"

Silence.

Ozan's men looked at each other, unsure if they should interfere. No one had ever spoken to Ozan like this.

But Leyla wasn't done.

She stepped even closer, challenging him. "If you're so powerful, let him go. Show me that you can win without torturing a half-dead man. Or are you afraid that without your violence, you're nothing?"

Ozan's jaw tightened. His fingers curled into a fist, tension radiating from his entire body.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, without breaking eye contact with Leyla, Ozan exhaled sharply and turned toward his men.

"Take him away. Patch him up."

The room stilled.

"Now." Ozan's voice was sharp as a blade. His men scrambled to obey, untying the beaten man and dragging him out.

Leyla let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

Ozan turned back to her, his expression unreadable. "You're playing a dangerous game, Ateş."

Leyla lifted her chin. "So are you."

A smirk tugged at Ozan's lips. But there was something else in his eyes. Something dark.

Something dangerous.

"This little fire of yours… I wonder how long it'll last."

Ozan's entire body burned with restrained anger. No one—no one—had ever questioned him like that. Had ever dared to challenge him in his own world.

And yet, there she was. Leyla. Standing tall, fearless, defying him without hesitation.

His men had already left, leaving them alone in the dimly lit basement. The scent of blood still lingered in the air, but all he could focus on was her.

She had made him stop..